Darkness Bind Them
by PhinnieLin
Summary: Gaiden spinoff Seiji centric A twist to the tale lands the Troopers in the midst of a Youkai civil war. Secret goverment programs, demons, and unusual and unwanted bonds abound. Rated for language and themes.
1. Entering Darkness

My eternal gratitude to my fellow Seiji fanatic, Kage-chan! Without you, this never would have been written. Now can I read more of Does Gender Matter? Pleeease?  
  
  
  
Darkness Bind Them  
  
Ginzai  
  
Prologue: In Which Events Are Set into Motion  
  
______________________ Cut my life into pieces This is my last resort ______________________  
  
  
  
The frenzied and panicked bleating of the machines had finally ceased, falling back to a more constant rhythm. They echoed about the still room, trying and failing to fill the gasp of silence. The feet of the men cowering in the back of the room shuffled across the metal floor, barely causing a sound but irksome all the same.  
  
They'd reason to be frightened.  
  
Ancient eyes shut slowly as withered fingers crept about a walking staff a full foot taller than the top of the old man's head. His face, usually calm and serene, twitched. The men seemed even more uneasy at this, pressing backwards against the far wall, each vainly trying to avoid that blind gaze.  
  
On the platform, the scientist raised a hand and ran it over a sweat streaked brow. He peered close to the boy, eyes nervously examining their prisoner, fingers pressing to a pale throat to capture an erratic heartbeat.  
  
"Well," he said, his voice high with nervous anxiety, if not the all out terror of the expendables below. "He will survive."  
  
"Obviously," the old man said, eyes still shut.  
  
"Eh," the scientist reached a hand into the boy's pale hair, staring at the strained face with pure and cool objectivity. "The specimen wouldn't die that easily, I suppose. The yoroi would prevent it, yes? Shikaisen?"  
  
"It is our hope." Shikaisen frowned, then allowed himself to float closer to the pair. "I had not expected this resistance, however."  
  
The scientist nodded. "In all experiments there is a measure of uncertainty. Humans will never be able to determine the full truth of nature, not by conventional means. We must grasp it with both hands and subdue it, drag it down to learn all its secrets."  
  
Shikaisen ignored this. Though he liked to pretend otherwise, the pale skinned Amerikanjin was just as expendable as the men by the wall. His words meant nothing to one who had lived as long as Shikaisen had.  
  
"Have you determined what the problem was?"  
  
"Not yet," the scientist said, stepping back at last and moving back to his precious machinery. "I suspect it was an unexpected reaction to the Rohypnol, though it seems unlikely. I'll need a blood sample to fully determine the cause of the cardiac arrest."  
  
Shikaisen lifted a hand from his staff and waved it lazily in the air.  
  
"Fine. But quickly; we are behind schedule."  
  
The scientist seemed annoyed at that, as he always did when Shikaisen spoke of things which he was not to have knowledge of. He saw this as a mere experiment, another way for mankind to rape the natural forces of the world.  
  
Shikaisen knew better.  
  
He turned away from the unconscious figure strapped to the star, instead moving across the room and behind the paper paneling, separating all but the boy from his sight, and even that one was a bare glimmer of gold over the bulk of the Seal of Solomon.  
  
He ignored their frenzied bustle and floated towards the balcony which overlooked the well protected and completely bound yoroi. Kourin was still, seemingly immobile. Shikaisen opened his eyes, staring at it. Mortal eyes could not see the energy which pulsed about the armor, could not see how the light of the room, even this artificial nonsense that dared to call itself illumination, could not see how it bent towards the still metal. /This was power. / Far more so than anything made by the hands of Man, or that could be controlled by them.  
  
It was power that he would possess. With or without the aid of the restless figure on the dais.  
  
There was a flutter of movement behind him. He spun, hands tight on the staff once more and froze, his robes falling into place about him.  
  
A man stood there, dark of skin, with ink black hair that fell in a straight cut just past his chin. He wore the traditional kimono and hakama of Shikaisen's home, pale even in the dim light of the underground chamber. He was also watching the Kourin yoroi.  
  
Shikaisen managed to find his voice.  
  
"Tanso-sama!"  
  
Tanso took no notice of his subordinate's exclamation, but instead frowned at the armor.  
  
"Does it go as planned?" he asked, voice low, as if threatening that if things were not going as expected, pain and torment would soon follow. "Will you be able to bear the yoroi as expected?"  
  
"Ah," Shikaisen said, releasing the staff to wring his hands together. The staff vanished. "Not as such, my lord."  
  
The dark man shot him a grim look.  
  
"The bond between the yoroi and the original bearer, lord, is stronger than we expected. We cannot sever it. The bearer nearly died when we tried."  
  
"And this bearer is where?"  
  
Shikaisen nodded towards the star. Tanso flicked his eyes towards it, took in the Seal, and looked back towards the armor.  
  
"Is there a possibility of recruiting him?"  
  
"It is not likely, lord. He seems to have a ....rather strong aversion to our kind. I doubt highly that we could convince him to fight for us."  
  
Tanso shrugged at this, seemingly unconcerned about the implications of it.  
  
"Then find a way around the bond."  
  
Irritation at that. As though it was a simple matter, subduing the one without killing him and subverting the other without loosing it! One of the Nine did not allow itself to be held for long, as past, painful experience had shown. Of course, Tanso-sama did not care for this fact. In the manner of employers for generations past, he gave an impossible task and expected no contention to be found with it. Shikaisen inwardly twitched at the thought, though no expression emerged. One did not live long in the Youjaikai and wear one's emotions plainly.  
  
A quick flash of beetle black eyes convinced him that no matter how carefully his thoughts had been hidden, his lord had managed to get the gist of them. Fortunately for Shikaisen, the other seemed to be too impatient to deal with him at the moment. When he spoke, however, his tone if not his words were sharp.  
  
"Quickly, Shikaisen. The war has already begun."  
  
He turned, vanishing back into the shadows as he did, leaving Shikaisen alone on the balcony. The old man wheezed, fingering the air as his staff reappeared. Tanso would get what was his, he thought darkly, turning back once more to gaze at the green yoroi. There was a way around the bond, that much he was certain of, but he wouldn't share that secret with his dark lord. To give the power of one of the Nine to that fool? He'd sooner spill the secrets of the yokai to the knowledge hungry moral who was tending the bearer.  
  
No, that would not happen. There was a way around the cemented connection between the mortal boy and the immortal armor, and once he had found it, the world would know and fear Shikaisen. Not Tanso. Not Arago.  
  
/Shikaisen./  
  
  
  
*to be continued*  
  
  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
And thus begins another multipart fic. Fortunately, this one is different than most of those which I start because I have a glorious and wonderful person who will kill me if I don't complete the fic.  
  
If you couldn't tell, this is a Gaiden story. In fact, it's a continuation of an oneshot fic that I posted almost a year ago, and even bears the same name. I wrote this intending the two to latch together, but soon determined that they wouldn't fit as such. Unfortunately, by that time, the name "Darkness Bind Them" had already stuck with this story, not with the original one. Alas.  
  
In any event, consider the prologue as taking place roughly in early to mid June, with the first chapter starting on Ryo's birthday. There is a wee bit of time between the two parts, and if you are desperate to know what happens in those weeks, check out my oneshot "Dying of the Light" which should hopefully grant a few details regarding what happened in the interim.  
  
Next chapter, meet the boys, the Ma Sho make a less than triumphant return, and both Anubisu and Shikaisen receive an unpleasant shock. Oddly enough, they both relate to the same thing. Go figure.  
  
January 21, 2003 


	2. Forced Conversations

Darkness Bind Them:  
  
Chapter One: In Which Conversations are Uncomfortable   
  
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection   
It's haunting how I can't seem to find myself again   
My walls are closing in   
Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced   
That there's just too much pressure to take   
-Linkin Park: Crawling   
  
  
  
******  
  
  
Anubisu was dreaming.  
  
He recognized the sensation. There was a peculiar sense to it, one which   
always returned no matter how often he slipped into this trancelike state. It was neither   
welcome nor reviled. At least, not while he was still sleeping. While dreaming, though,   
he was passive. He couldn't touch or change anything which he saw.   
  
After all, it was impossible to change the events of another person's dream.  
  
There was a soft wind on his face and Anubisu opened his eyes to see a   
familiar corridor. Dark green light lit the paper walls. The floor was some hardwood,   
dark as sin in the bad lighting. Nothing unusual. He'd seen this particular walkway   
many, many times. It seemed to be a traditional dojo, wooden floors and sliding paper   
walls making him feel vaguely self conscious about his sandal clad feet. He repressed   
the desire to shuck them, and concentrated instead on the sudden start of sound.  
  
There were voices in the next room, a multitude of them in varying shades and   
pitches. Each sounded smug. It didn't take much for Anubisu to decide that he rather   
disliked those voices.   
  
Frowning, he made his way towards the nearest sliding panel. His feet made   
no sound, another disconcerting change from reality. They should have thumped loudly   
with each step. He was not walking carefully.  
  
When he reached the door he paused, listening. The voices were still   
speaking, but the words were yet indistinct; he couldn't make them out. The tone of   
them was more wheedling now, threatening and begging in the same breath. He could   
almost hear another voice, different from the multitude, shouting something that   
drowned beneath the myriad voices that rose against it.  
  
That other voice sounded familiar, but it was distorted and he couldn't tell who   
it belonged to. One hand crept up of its own violation, catching at the door frame. It   
was rough under his fingers, an odd contrast to the smooth look of the wood grain. He   
pushed against it, but it didn't open. Instead his fingers slipped through it, and he   
stepped through the closed door. It was no more substantial than smoke, but he didn't   
think about this.  
  
The voices had stopped.   
  
Anubisu peered in, eyes automatically adjusting to the even greater darkness   
of that room. It was the same wooden floor, same dark shadows, but the entirety of the   
place was covered with grime and ichor, blood and entrails covering the walls and   
staining the white paper. There was no scent to the bloody destruction, but the sight   
was more than enough to turn his stomach. It felt somehow colder in that room as well,   
the temperature dropping several degrees as he walked out of the plain room he had   
arrived in.   
  
/I am somewhere within the mansion. Please come and save me. /   
  
Anubisu blinked at the sound. There was no one else in the room, of that he   
was entirely certain, and that voice hadn't sounded particularly desperate. If anything it   
was smug, as though it knew his decision had already been made. Anubisu didn't like it.  
  
/Don the armor and save me. /   
  
He started. The hell was that about? The yoroi? How did they even know   
about it, and who was this anyway?   
  
His frown growing deeper, Anubisu stalked forward, determined to find the   
source of the voice and to shake some answers out of it.   
  
There was a gasp but it didn't come from him. He stilled a moment, listening   
for the source. It came again, louder, with the clang that announced metal cracking   
against metal, followed by a dull thump that could only be flesh striking - or being   
struck. It was coming from the next room. He shot towards it, ran through the paper   
paneling, to see-  
  
A figure stood in the middle of the room, the shadows draining all color and   
features. He was clutching a long sword in both hands, hair slicked back with sweat or   
blood, Anubisu couldn't tell which. Anubisu started and stared harder at the figure. Was   
that undergear?   
  
It was, though the color of it was impossible to tell with deep fog that seemed   
to surround the place. The boy, for it was a boy, seemingly young if the shape of his   
body was any indication, looked dreadfully familiar, but whether this was Rekka or Doku   
or one of the others, he couldn't tell. Anubisu couldn't see face or features. They were   
shrouded somehow, fogged from his sight, and his hair fell forward over them, further   
helping to disguise his face. The grey-green light turned skin and hair and shadow the   
same dingy color. Only the paleness of the yoroi stood out, white in the darkness.   
Something about the way he moved, however, shot a tingle of recognition through   
Anubisu, and without even thinking the name, he found his subconscious thought   
confirmed. He knew this boy, knew him far too well-  
  
"Hwoa!"   
  
The figure hefted his sword and raced towards an eight legged monstrosity   
which clicked mandibles at them both and skittered along the far wall, up it, and leaped   
off in a perfect jump that seemed to allow it to land straight on the boy. He would have   
none of that, it seemed. He turned easily, wielding a blade longer than he was tall and   
making it appear as light as a bokken in his hands. He swung upwards, the sword the   
same silver glitter as fish scales underwater. It sang through the air, slicing the creature   
in two, both parts turning to a swirling dark smoke as Anubisu watched. He took a step   
forward, determined to confirm or deny his suspicions, only to have that featureless face   
turn towards the movement.   
  
The boy seemed surprised to see him, but his resolve was soon gained back.   
His armor clad feet were silent as he ran forward, and Anubisu wondered just how the   
boy had seen him, given that he'd not been able to affect anything else in this strange   
dream. Then there wasn't time to think because the boy had reached him, had leapt   
upwards, high above, and the sword swung down in a breathtaking arc, two handed over   
his head and down again. Unable to move, Anubisu watched wide-eyed as it fell straight   
through him, cleaving this dream self in half.  
  
The grey vision fractured, splintering into shards of broken glass. As they fell   
away into darkness, the featureless face fell into place, and a pair of horrified violet eyes   
met his own. Anubisu thought that he might have shouted, straining towards that face,   
but it swirled away and then was gone.  
****  
"He'll be upset when he wakes up."  
  
"He can deal."  
  
There was a sharp poke to the top of his head.  
  
"Maybe you should be more careful. You know how grumpy he is first thing in   
the morning."  
  
It was followed by a pull on his hair.  
  
"It's not morning." The voice sounded perfectly reasonable and justified.   
"Besides, he should know better than to fall asleep during a meeting."  
  
"Still," The first tone was still somewhat worried.  
  
"Besides," Another sharp yank, a feeling of hair being twisted, and then   
another section lifted from his scalp. "You can't not think it's funny."  
  
"That's only because it is."  
  
"Kayura-chan thinks so, ne?"  
  
"Hai!" Entirely too perky, the third voice was. Anubisu had the sudden desire   
to smack the source of it, but a vague suspicion of that being an extremely lousy idea   
held him back.   
  
"Too bad we don't have a mortal whassitcalled, picture taker, you know-"  
  
"Camera?"  
  
Another pull and twist. Anubisu raised a hand to smack at the offending hair   
snatcher.   
  
"Exactly. Oi, he's waking up!"  
  
Eyes still tightly screwed shut, Anubisu groaned. His head hurt entirely too   
much to deal with this at the moment.  
  
"Rather wishing that I'm not," he muttered, pushing his face further into his   
folded arms.  
  
"You might be, especially after you look in a mirror." The first voice melted   
into a recognizable tone. Naaza. A snicker answered him from somewhere to Anubisu's   
right.  
  
"What?" He lifted his head enough to peer upwards over his hands. The   
headache which had previously retreated for a nice, enjoyable rest, returned to action   
and, seemingly feeling guilty for having abandoned him for the past while, set up   
clanging cymbals between his ears and poking at his eyes from the inside out. Anubisu   
moaned and let his head fall back again, clutching his fingers through his hair. They   
brushed against a smoothly twisted bit, and he tactically examined it, confused   
somewhat at its presence.  
  
"The hell...?" he murmured, fingering it. There was a sputter of laughter from   
Rajura.  
  
"Ano, Anubisu," Kayura said. She sounded like she was smothering laughter   
with each word. "I think that you should get some rest. You don't look like you are   
feeling all that well at the moment."  
  
He chose not to dignify that with a response. His headache chose to abandon   
the cymbals and move on to firing canons.  
  
"Yare, yare," he said, managing somehow to push up from the low table and   
regain his feet. He had the sudden embarrassing thought that there was quite likely a   
large red print on his cheek from the rough fabric of his shirt. He rubbed at it, felt the   
impression of linen, frowned, and forgot about it. The others could deal.  
  
Naaza, Rajura, and Kayura watched him, the later two somewhat expectantly,   
the former somewhat nervously. He glared at them. Kayura giggled, which caused   
Anubisu to scowl. Giggles were not the proper response to a Yami glare. Ignoring this,   
he stepped carefully away from his seat and moved on to the door, stepping through and   
slowly making his way back to his chambers. Somehow he didn't have the energy to   
teleport at the moment.  
  
He yawned as he meandered away from their war room, Arago's former   
chamber. There had been a meeting, he remembered that much but damned if he knew   
any of the details from it. No, he'd been dreaming again. The same dreams which had   
haunted him for over three weeks now, much as he disliked thinking about it.  
  
The trip back to his rooms was rather unremarkable. Several of the underlings   
skittered out of his way as he trod, heavy footed, down the several halls and flights of   
stairs back to his quarters. They received several venomous looks as well, but most   
seemed somewhat dumbstruck and not adequately cowed as they should have been. He   
hoped rather that his face wasn't still red.   
  
The answer to this was discovered not long after he'd reached his quarters.   
Staring in the body length mirror that Kayura had discovered in the mortal world,   
Anubisu groaned. He tentatively reached a hand up to pull at one of the many /many/   
little twists and braids that decorated his scalp, each tied off with a pretty ribbon of   
varying colors and hues.   
  
Death, he decided, wrenching out one after another of the ties. Death to   
Rajura. And to Kayura too, those ribbons had to have come from somewhere. Painful,   
horrible death, probably involving Yamiken stuck in various painful, horrible places.  
  
He paused a moment as a thought occurred to him. The youjai had been   
staring as he made his way back from the conference room...   
  
"Fuck," he muttered. Death was too good for them. He would have to think of   
some suitable revenge, terrible and complete and agonizing. But not just at that   
moment. Not with his head hurting this much, more so now that he'd been tugging at   
his hair.   
  
Finally managing to get the last of the bows out, he collapsed onto his bed, not   
even bothering to shuck his clothes. Sleep. That was what was needed. He closed his   
eyes, relaxing back into the darkness of the room.   
  
A pale face stared at him, eyes dark and accusing and horrified.   
  
Anubisu snapped his eyes open, breathing hard.   
  
There was no one in the room of course, but damn if that _feeling_ wasn't   
staying with him, that sense of fright and pain and grim determination which he'd felt   
before, all too clearly. A distant feeling coursed over him, as though someone had   
turned his own Koku rou Ken Ankoku Cho Uhigiri against him. It was faint, but his limbs   
ached as it passed. For a moment, his heart beat in the rhythm of another, and his lungs   
gasped, trying to follow that other's erratic pattern. The dark room blurred and became   
a hazy forest, trees black slashes against a grey sky.  
  
Then it was over. The forest vanished, the pain disappeared with the same   
accelerity as it had overtaken him, the sense that another was in control regretfully   
faded, lingering for a moment in his mind.  
  
More unnerved then he would like to admit, Anubisu stared up at his dark   
ceiling.  
  
Groaning, he thrust a hand over his own eyes, blocking the dim room with a   
self imposed darkness that somehow made it easier to think. At least when the feelings   
had vanished, his headache had gone with them.   
  
He knew that face. He knew those eyes. And as much as he hated to   
remember, he knew the feel of that mind. The bond was supposed to be dormant, if not   
dead. He'd tried as hard as he could to close it after their parting and it had been over a   
year since last active, but he still remembered.   
  
Shaking his head slightly, he wondered aloud:  
  
"Kourin, what the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?"  
  
There was no answer, but he hadn't particularly expected one. He was not   
used to having them gift wrapped and handed to him, particularly in regards to the   
bearer of his yoroi's twin.   
  
Anubisu groaned and rolled onto a side. He twined the fingers of one hand   
through his newly freed hair and pulled on it.   
  
Weeks now, this had been happening. Weeks of closing his eyes and opening   
them to see that damned dojo or the dark forest, weeks of subdued lighting flickering   
through his body, weeks of feeling secondhand what he shouldn't be feeling at all.   
  
It was getting worse. Anubisu pressed his face into his free arm. It had been   
the merest of sensations to start off with, and had only progressed into full visions   
recently. He hadn't even been certain where he was getting them from at first. Now the   
knowledge seemed to beat at him, and he pushed himself onto his back once more,   
throwing an arm over his face.   
  
/Fine, / he thought irritably. / Fine. I _get it_. /  
  
Not for the first time, he cursed the bond that bound his spirit to Kourin no   
Seiji's. It was an impossible task to close it completely, a fact which he should know   
given how hard he'd tried to kill it.   
  
Still mentally grumbling, Anubisu let his mind sink again. It was entirely too   
easy to locate the thread that connected them, and easier still to follow it back again. He   
waited a moment, felt his surroundings shift and alter as his mind entered into that of   
the other.   
  
When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at trees.  
****  
  
Pain. It snaked upwards from his calves, striking through his body like   
lightning.  
  
The forest seemed to call out to him, whispering his name as he ran through   
it. Monsters crept along the pine needle strewn ground, slithering and sneaking, their   
claws and mandibles clicking audibly. He swallowed listening to it, hearing them and /   
that voice/ still calling out for his aid.   
  
It was twilight, or so he thought. Twilight, because the light was grey and   
pale, a weak thing that shuddered and failed as night approached. It was never dawn   
here. He would not be granted the hope inspiring aid of coming light.   
  
His feet slapped the ground and sent jarring thuds up his legs. They ached   
from it, not yet numb, but he didn't stop. There were creatures in the shadow which he   
did not want to face; he didn't think he had the strength to do so again. Not here. Not   
like this.  
  
Easier to run. Easier to forget honor for the moment, taking flight and comfort   
in the better part of valor. He hated himself for it. He should be fighting these   
creatures, should be forcing _them_ to flee, but he'd already fought for so long and he   
was so tired... He didn't think he could manage it just then. And if they found him ... and   
if he couldn't fight them off...   
  
He shuddered to think about it.   
  
He'd been lucky this far. He'd have to be lucky a bit longer if he wanted to   
survive this. Oh god, oh god, he had to survive this. The others needed him to. He   
wasn't exactly certain what would happen if he didn't escape the monsters, but he knew   
that the effects of it would be devastating. Something inside him whispered this,   
breaking the spell _that voice_ tried to weave, splintering its control and allowing him to   
continue moving.  
  
He blinked and found himself on the ground, hands pressed into the loam and   
his no datchi shining dully at his right. The rasping sound of his own breathing filled his   
ears. How long had he been kneeling there? He didn't know. An open target, he   
thought with disgust, reaching with a hand that shook ever so lightly for his sword. For   
just a moment he continued to sit, shifting his position so that he was kneeling.   
  
He tilted the no datchi so that he could lean on it. The long edge was covered   
in dirt and ichor, and had he been in his usual state of mind he would have been   
disgusted at his own lack of respect for the blade. It bore his weight silently. Had he   
expected otherwise?   
  
His mind scattered at the thought, and he wondered uneasily what he had just   
been doing. It was impossible to tell. All he could remember of this place was the   
battle, then running.  
  
Soft pale pink fell across his face and he blinked upwards. Sakura rained down   
and he flinched from it. Not a good sign, it was never a good sign-   
  
A clattering behind him. Something thick and bloated and slimy moved   
towards him, amazingly fast for something of its bulk, and he barely managed to get   
himself up and the no datchi in position in time for it to impale itself on Kourinken's long   
blade. It howled at him, trying to move up towards him despite the sword sticking   
through its midsection and Seiji yelled, spinning so that it was thrown off before it   
managed to squirm up the blade to touch him.  
  
Not the best of moves. It wasn't dead and the gaping wound merely began to   
close off, leaving no trace of it, and worse, no trace of weakness. It twitched forward   
even as it healed, and Seiji turned to run again, not certain if he could defeat it at the   
moment.   
  
He bounced back, falling to the ground as a previously unseen tan wall made   
its presence known.  
  
Seiji blinked up at it. Not a wall at all, but a yoroi. He gasped at the sight of it,   
and more specifically, at it's bearer.   
  
The dark haired man currently frowning at him was not exactly a figure Seiji   
would have thought of as a savior. Quite the opposite, really, especially given their last   
encounter. He tried to shove that thought away, not wanting to deal with it at the best of   
all times, least of all now, when he was tired and lost in this nightmare world. The sickly   
sense of panic which he had felt then was trilling at his nerves, seeking to take over his   
mind, and as hard as he tried, Seiji could not quite displace it. It made his breathing   
light and fast. There seemed to be an icy ball in the pit of his chest, which spread   
through out his body and left cold tingles in its wake.  
  
"Anubisu!"   
  
His longtime enemy wasn't attacking, why wasn't he attacking? Couldn't he see   
that Seiji was helpless? /Not helpless, / he corrected, his mind automatically shuddering   
away from that idea. Vulnerable, perhaps. Never helpless. That would mean they had   
won, and he couldn't -wouldn't- believe that. Smart of Shikaisen, to use this most hated   
of memories against him. He'd known of Arago, after all. It was a favorite nightmare to   
send after him. Why not drag out that face and those eyes to terrorize him as well?  
  
Anubisu continued to watch him, face still. Anubisu knelt slowly, eyes   
shadowed and face expressionless. Despite the eerily calm visage, Seiji knew Anubisu,   
knew him and his cruelty far too well, and he pressed back from him. His fist tightened,   
fingers questing for his sword. He'd lost his grip on Kourinken - where was it? He   
couldn't fight without it, not without using Kourin to its full extent, and something   
crossed his mind, a feeling from _outside_ him, sadistic glee and a thrill of victory, and   
he pushed the feeling away, unable to deal with his misfiring empathic abilities.   
  
/I can't use the yoroi, can't call it-/ Oh, but the _want_ to call the yoroi was a   
strong one, fueled by a desperate need for something, anything to use as further   
protection. Only the grim knowledge that people would die if he did kept him from it.   
With that thought came something resembling calm; no matter what this shadow which   
had been conjured up did to him. It had always been easier to be strong for others   
rather than for himself, and he clung to that realization.   
  
"Are you all right?" The voice was deeper than he remembered, warped   
somehow in this place of twilight.   
  
A shrill cry from behind him. He looked over one shoulder, staring back. The   
creature had finally managed to get up, wound completely healed now, and it screamed   
towards them both. Seiji cast a hand out again for Kourinken, but again his fingers   
missed it.   
  
He barely managed to dive out of the way. The creature landed where he'd   
been sitting moments before, and spun to face him, forest debris flying. It hissed,   
revealing double rows of sharp, pointed teeth and a long slender tongue which whipped   
out as though tasting the air.   
  
A crunching of leaves demanded his attention. Anubisu stood, ignoring Seiji   
momentarily, reaching behind to swing down his own weapon. The long blade sent a   
cool wind against Seiji's face as it sang through the air. Anubisu stepped forward, and   
this time when the creature jumped towards them, he called his own attack. It fried in   
the dark lightning, wailing in pain, before it vanished in a cloud of dark violet smoke.   
Anubisu turned back to look at Seiji.  
  
"You don't look all right," he said, blinking down at him. Seiji stared back up   
with wide eyes. _This_ certainly wasn't the way he had envisioned their reunion being.   
Certainly not if this wasn't the real Anubisu, but a dream fragment used by his captors in   
an attempt to destroy him. This raised the possibility that this wasn't a false Anubisu at   
all, but the true Yami bearer.   
  
Seiji wasn't entirely certain which would be worse.  
  
"Shit," Anubisu muttered, removing his helmet to run a hand through his hair.   
"What did they do to you, Kourin?"  
  
Seiji watched him mutely. Definitely not the way he'd thought their reunion   
would be. Not that he'd ever particularly wanted said reunion, but the thought   
remained. Obviously Shikaisen didn't have as good a grip on Seiji's memories as he   
thought. Unless, of course, it wasn't a false Anubisu at all, he reminded himself. His   
head was starting to hurt from thinking about it.  
  
"Never mind," Anubisu said, looking frustrated at Seiji's lack of response.   
"Where are you?"  
  
"I don't know," Seiji answered. His voice remained even, a fact which he was   
rather proud of. It wasn't a lie either. Where was he? The forest, he thought, except for   
when he was at the dojo.   
  
"Not _here_," Anubisu waved a hand at their surroundings. "When you _aren't_   
all fucked up. Where are you then?"  
  
"I don't know," Seiji repeated, more earnestly this time. A slight current of   
anger was starting to make its way through his dulled emotions. He _really_ didn't like   
Anubisu.  
  
"You're not being much help, you realize." The dark haired man scowled at   
Seiji, as though the entire mess was his fault. Which it might have been; Seiji certainly   
didn't know how it had happened.   
  
"You don't remember anything else?" Anubisu pressed the point and Seiji   
reacted to the underlying tone. There was only one reason that Anubisu had ever   
spoken to him in that tone of voice before, and his mind jumped to it. Anubisu and what   
he represented must merely be a new tactic of Seiji's captor. It figured really; just   
another way to trick him into donning Kourin and having its abilities memorized by the   
computers. His eyes narrowed.  
  
"I'm not giving you the yoroi," Seiji hissed, and gathered his legs under him.   
He was ready to spring up if need be, exhausted as he was or not.  
  
Extreme irritation passed over Anubisu's face at that.  
  
"For the gods' sake, Kourin, I'm not after the damn yoroi!" He yelled, eyes   
flashing. Seiji blinked at that. It was certainly not a phrase he had ever expected out of   
his one time enemy. He said as much and Anubisu looked vaguely ashamed.   
  
"Things are different now," he muttered, and stretched a hand out to help Seiji   
to his feet.  
  
"I'm still dreaming," Seiji said flatly, watching the offered extension warily.   
"That's the only explanation for this."   
  
He pushed the hand aside and stood on his own. A quick look located   
Kourinken, and he grasped it quickly. Seiji didn't like the sensation of being weaponless   
around his darker companion.  
  
"Dreaming?"   
  
Seiji nodded and pushed the heavy stands of hair out of his face.   
  
"The forest, the dojo," he explained shortly, waving a hand at their   
surroundings. "They created them, based on my memories."  
  
Anubisu gave a long look at the dark trees and the rather foreboding green   
lights.  
  
"Some memories," he muttered. Seiji glared at him.  
  
"It doesn't look like this, not in real life," Seiji said, feeling vaguely defensive.  
  
"I know," Anubisu responded, but that was a reminder of something which Seiji   
didn't want to think of, and he pushed the memory away quickly. Anubisu, as if sensing   
that he had gone somewhere which had not needed going, paused and looked back at   
Seiji.   
  
"I am sorry about that," he said and raked his fingers through his hair again.  
  
"Drop it," Seiji's words were clipped. "I don't want to hear it."  
  
"Right then." He sighed. "It's how I'm here is all. This is me, you know, not   
one of your warped memories."  
  
That answered the question on whether or not this was a false shade. Those   
memories were ones which Shikaisen had never managed to breech, thank all the gods.   
Seiji looked closer, stretching out with his mind to get a better sense of his companion.   
Anubisu didn't have the surreal tinge to him that the rest of the creatures in this shadow   
world did, and his presence seemed more solid, somehow, now that the panic had   
resided and Seiji could take note of such things.   
  
He flipped Kourinken to his back, feeling odd just holding it if he wasn't about   
to use it. It was within reach, though, and that was all that he needed.   
  
"I should have guessed," Seiji said sourly. "They would never have been able to   
quite match your true personality. You're too annoying in person."  
  
"See, I would have gone for dead sexy and debonair, personally-"  
  
"Not in this life, Yami."  
  
"Well, damn. Who's 'they'?"  
  
Seiji blinked, not prepared for the abrupt change in subject.   
  
"Why do you want to know?" he queried suspiciously.   
  
Anubisu looked offended. "Because, you idiot, something is happening to you   
and I'm getting the after effects of it through the bond. I'm sick of it, it's been   
happening for weeks, and since your 'friends'-" he said that bit maliciously and made   
those annoying finger quotes with it, "-haven't seen fit to put a stop to it, _I am_. That   
answer enough for you?"  
  
"Weeks?" Seiji said slowly. He'd never really thought about how long he'd   
been kept there. More than days, he would have thought, but weeks?   
  
"Trust me. _Weeks._"  
  
Seiji half felt an urge to laugh at that. Trust Anubisu? He wasn't such a fool as   
to do that.   
  
"So?" Anubisu went on, looking decidedly miffed at this point. He crossed his   
arms and leaned back against a tree. "I don't want to spend anymore time in this   
nightmare than I have to."   
  
That made two of them. It was perhaps the first thing that they had ever   
agreed on.   
  
"I don't know who they are," Seiji said finally. "Not all of them, anyway.   
There's a man, a scientist, who seems to be in charge of the humans, but I've never   
heard his name."  
  
"You said 'humans'," Anubisu's gaze was intent. "Which means that there were   
other creatures?"  
  
"Just the one. At least, as far as I know. There are a lot of times when I don't   
know anything, because I'm not really there." Seiji said that last in a whisper. He shook   
himself to get his attention back.   
  
"Shikaisen. That's the demon. Even the scientist seems to answer to him."  
  
Anubisu pursed his lips, staring at the twilight dimmed foliage.   
  
"Not a name I recognize," he confessed, his brow furrowed. "But there are a   
lot of places he could be from, not just the Youjaikai. Or it might not be the name he   
commonly goes by. What does he look like?"  
  
"He looks like a mutated raisin," Seiji said grimly. "But with a beard."  
  
"Interesting description. Doesn't ring any bells though."   
  
Seiji shrugged at that, not looking at his reluctant companion. It was easier to   
concentrate on the trees, or the bracken. Dark as it was, it was prudent to keep an eye   
on their surroundings. It was unusual that the attacks would let off for as long as they   
had, and Seiji wondered suddenly if they had a way to see what he was dreaming and if   
they knew Anubisu was there.  
  
"As for location," he went on, thinking back to Anubisu's prior question. He   
kept his tone modulated. It was much easier to exchange banter than it was to   
remember just where his body was, and who had taken it there. "I don't really know. I   
was in New York when they took me, but I think I was unconscious for some time. I could   
be anywhere, though I'm fairly certain that I am still in America. Shikaisen and the   
scientist speak Japanese well, but their minions don't."  
  
"America is a damn big place, Kourin. Can't you narrow it down any?"  
  
Seiji shrugged again. His hair fell back into face with the movement and he   
irritably pushed it aside once more. It almost hurt to remember these things; his mind   
wanted to let go of them and stay in the here and now. He had to force it back onto task.   
  
  
The paid footmen spoke English, a language he wasn't fluent at and he   
certainly didn't recognize the differences in dialect. In any event, he hadn't had much   
experience with them. They usually ran from the room when he was awake, because   
Shikaisen was there and none of them seemed overly comfortable with the demon in   
their midst.  
  
But they hadn't all spoken English, Seiji realized, and frowned in concentration.   
Some of them, he remembered, had spoken Chinese, because-  
  
"It's right under Chinatown," he said, surprised at the memory. "Los Angeles.   
Some of the soldiers were talking about it. I'd forgotten." Dismay at that thought. He   
prided himself on his memory. He hated not being able to rely on it.  
  
Anubisu frowned. Evidently modern cities weren't a key point of his.   
  
"Fine." The blue haired man pushed away from the tree and knelt to recover   
Yamiken. "Give me a bit; I'll have to ask Naaza where that is."   
  
"Take your time," Seiji muttered. He didn't particularly care for the idea of   
Anubisu coming to his aid, but it had to be better than waiting for his will to break and   
Shikaisen to gain full access to Kourin.   
  
Anubisu made a face at him which he pretended to ignore.   
  
"I'm leaving now," he said needlessly, and then paused and frowned again.   
"Ah, are you going to be all right?"   
  
There was something resembling concern in his eyes when he said that, which   
Seiji found to be bitterly ironic given their relationship. It brought the anger back to   
him, which had been temporarily placed aside during their surrealistic conversation.  
  
"I'll be fine," he spat and glared at the taller man. "Trust me; they aren't nearly   
as imaginative as _you_ were."  
  
"Then I'll be sure to give them some pointers when I find them," Anubisu said   
savagely. The two locked gazes and scowled at each other.   
  
Nice to know that some things don't change, Seiji thought vaguely, as Anubisu   
flipped him off and then faded into the shadows. Anubisu and I, we'll always hate each   
other.   
  
The fact that he'd just told his onetime nemesis exactly where to find him,   
when he himself was defenseless, was not a comfortable one. It was almost a relief   
when he heard a slight rustle through the undergrowth and slitted golden eyes opened   
and glared menacingly at him.   
  
Easy enough to swing Kourinken from his back and prepare to fight once more.   
At least he'd had a bit of a respite, unwelcome company aside. The drugs made it   
frighteningly easy to put the conversation out of conscious thought.   
  
The golden eyed creature leapt at him, mandibles clacking and   
multisegmented legs skittering with impossible speed across the leaf strewn ground.  
  
He rejoined the battle with a shout.  
TBC.  
****  
Author's Notes  
  
So. Er. It's been two months. Almost three, really, since the last time I updated this.   
It's sort of pathetic, I suppose. I apologize for it. I hit a dry spell and couldn't write   
anything for over a month and a half. When you write as much as I do, it's a very   
depressing place to be. I loath writer's block with a fiery passion.   
  
Fortunately, an infusion of Irish rebel music and time spent working on my online comic   
managed to get me back on track. Anyway, I do hope that you enjoy this chapter. The   
next one shouldn't take two and a half months to get out. I rather hope not, anyway!   
  
I'd give you some details from the next chapter, but remarkably few of the ones I   
promised last time actually happened. Thus, I can state with all a complete lack o truth  
that there will be pink bunnies, a romance between Arago's twin sister and Ryou, and  
the discovery of the tenth armor worn by Jun, bishonen no yoroi, the Armor of the Pretty  
Boy, which, after a quick vote, is infused with Kourin because, really, no one is prettier   
on that show than Seiji anyway. Jun will be most disappointed. Yamato may make a   
guest appearance, simply so that he can declare that he's not a Seiji clone. Heh. We   
all know the truth anyway.  
  
April 23, 2003 


End file.
